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This is an e-mail lottery. One person a day wins a chance to write to the growing list of subscribers. It could be you.

— thelistserve.com

It's not often the average person gets a second chance at winning. Well, I guess I am no longer average. Because this is the second time that I have won the drawing for the Listserve.

The last time I heard from Zena Koo, I was in NYC on holiday in 2015 when I wrote about being single and accidentally exposing myself to the guy that took me to a pool hall for an online date. I received an overwhelming amount of responses, from men, women. Single. Dating. Near and far. I even received offers for dates. On Skype. In person. Via email. Then there were the people who asked me to write guest posts on their blogs. And those that wrote email exchanges lasted for days at a time. It was a joy to read other stories from people, but then I got too busy. Busy with the New Year. Busy with the rest of my life. Graduate school started again, deprioritizing anything beyond a hundred mile radius. I didn't make time to update my blog. Didn't add the new subscribers from the Listserve readership who requested updates about my life. Readers were gracious enough to visit my blog. Thousands of views on my site dropped to dozens. An opportunity lost to share more comedy, to nurture new relationships, and to potentially fall in. Out. And back into love.

Over the last twenty months, I thought about how I had potentially squandered something great. How I had not done enough to keep a unique experience alive. I thought about it in the shower. On a trip I had taken this summer to Southeast Asia, Africa, Europe and Iceland. There were many new unique moments, like thinking I would die from being stung by a jellyfish in the Philippines, skimming my knee in Myanmar on my first ever motorbike ride, staring at hot Irish guys with man buns, and looking for remnants of Thor in glaciers and cliffs. Despite all of that, I still daydreamed about what if I the Listserve to do all over again. What would I have done?

With that, I propose a challenge. MEET ME AND MY COVERED BOSOMS IN CHICAGO for the Grate Cheese Caper of 2016. A picnic where we feast on cheese. If you don't eat cheese, bring fancy crackers, If you don't eat crackers, bring wine. And if you don't consume any of those delicious treats, we may have to have a soul reflection together where I better understand your hesitation for joy and grateness. In the meantime, grab your blanket and head to the destination below. Rain or shine.

Many of you have inquired about my most recent dates. Emailing, calling, and asking about the next man. As you recently heard, a few of the men smoke with babies. Make baby smoke. Smoke and have babies. I am not a fan of smoking babies because it puts tears in my eyes so I decided to not attend the last two dates. However, my neighbor has reassured me that I have a cute nose, mouth and eyes so there are bound to be more opportunities. She is a lovely artist, with a husband and two grown children so I trust her judgement.

The time of this particular date was right before Swedish Lief and her Man-of-Mystery decided to room with me. I had just started looking for a new roommate on Craigslist which resulted in two guys checking out the apartment. I declared that these thirty minute visits would count as dates so I would only have twelve more to go on in the following five months. This caused backlash from the group of women who handcrafted my account and contract.

A Woman Betrothed: I do not agree that the Craigslist appointments count as dates.

The Enforcer: I am with a Woman Betrothed. Pease refer to the contract. It requires three votes to make any amendments. At least that was the intent of its authors though only explicitly laid out in the bullet referring to profile changes.

CatholicGelt: Fine. I would like to propose that Freecycle and Craigslist, both <dot>org websites, are equal opportunity platforms for identifying men. I don't want to lose out on any missed connections.

The Enforcer: As long as an actual outing is arranged for purely social purposes (i.e. not apartment visits) then the signers will consider it. But I must bow to the 3/4 majority on this. Ladies?

A Woman Betrothed: I agree that it's fine to find men from other sources, but an actual social outing (i.e., date) must be arranged for it to count.

CatholicGelt: You all are clearly going out on dates, often. I consider 97% of my encounters with the opposite sex as dates. For example, if I am at Whole Foods and the grocer bags my melons, I consider that a night out on the town.

Mère de Fleur: Bagging your melons, CatholicGelt? That sounds pretty intense for a first date if you ask me. I kind of agree with a Woman Betrothed and the Enforcer, though I do sympathize with your point of view as I averaged about two to three dates every five years in my single days and coming up with twelve in a short period would have seemed totally overwhelming... However, I'm sure it can be done! Maybe if you and a prospective single male apartment dweller were to meet up for coffee or dinner that might count?

After my friends pummeled me with regulations, I boarded a plane to Chicago where I had signed up for comedy classes at The Second City. Instead of ignoring my dating obligations, I changed the location of my How About We profile to see if I could score a new date or two in Chicago. And then I did!

When Swedish Lief moved in, we decided to take our first trip to IKEA, the land of plenty. We dressed in our finest attire. Swedish Lief wore a yellow soccer jersey from Sweden, while I adorned a Heineken t-shirt and white cowboy hat.

First stop: the IKEA cafeteria. We decided to sample all of the basics. Swedish Lief and I put sanity aside for the IKEA demi-gods, DINERA, ASKHOLMEN, nd FARTFULL. We found out that families repeatedly ate at IKEA since they can pay under $10/person for a massive tray of food. Wild to learn that horse meat could be so affordable.*

The IKEA Triple Crown. It's all fun and meatballs, until you find out you ate Hidalgo.

Once we pownd the meatballs, we packed up the extras to begin our search for Swedish Lief's desk. After about twenty minutes of passing by a dozen fake rooms, I couldn't take it anymore. I seriously zoned out on a bed and Swedish Lief went off on her own. A few customers asked Swedish Lief for directions and price checks because her yellow soccer jersey and jeans matched the IKEA employee uniform. She told me that some of those same customers stared at me, thinking that I needed a store buddy since I had clearly lost my way.

Look, I would expect no less from any of you. All I have to say is that when you are marching around a giant warehouse holding thirty minute old horse balls, you start losing your mind. The balls start to smell and no garbage can in sight is an actual can for garbage. They are props, people. It's all props! You won't find me saddling up to go to IKEA any time soon. I guarantee it!

That's better.

*No horses were harmed in the making of this meal, or so we assume. The horse scare happened across the pond in February.

**If you would like a recipe for Apple Piebald, I suggest you find a real food recipe at Willow Bird Baking, an award winning food blogger and friend.

Your Daughter of Anarchy bailed on the moto expo. I found out it cost over $15 and I could not get myself to pay for it. I am sorry. Well, not really sorry to you as much as to myself because of my lack of self control at lunch.

My roommate, Swedish Lief (thanks to CatholcGelt's random name generator) got her car detailed. With two hours to waste and a mealtime to fill, we headed over to a local pub for burgers, a major no-no on my acceptable food list.*

Swedish Lief ordered the mushroom and caramelized burger while I got the jumbo 12 oz. burger with fried jalapenos and fried onions. Plus sweet potato fries, which came on the house since our waiter forgot to include them.

About 6 oz into the meal, my small mouth couldn't handle eating any more meat, bread, or potatoes. It seriously concerned me that I might get locked jaw from this seven inch tall behemoth. My roommate would have no such nonsense. "Eat your pickle. All of it!" For each additional ounce I consumed, my happiness quotient deteriorated in the opposite direction.

To cap it all off, Swedish Lief grabbed the bill and wrote, "Call me, <insert my phone number>" at the bottom. And then made a run for the door. **

*Over the last six months, my strict diet of meat, grass, and no exercise has helped me lose 25 lbs. Please consult your WebMD before following any advice herein as I only take credit for gained weight and gelato-induced bliss.

**Ido not condone this behavior, but the waiter made a "that's what she said" joke. And since I laughed, Swedish Lief names this an act of flirtation.

I waited longer than I should to share my stand up routine with y'all. To my surprise, my first non-friend fan seems to be a Chilean satanic worshiper on Tumblr. My comedy knows no bounds and sees no creed. Comments, sharing and laughter in public are all widely appreciated. And yes, all the comedy I wrote for my routine is true, with a few exceptions.